


Pinewood Derby

by nagi_schwarz



Series: Foxtrot [124]
Category: Dollhouse, Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Crossover, M/M, not actually RPF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-18
Updated: 2016-07-18
Packaged: 2018-07-24 16:57:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7515950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nagi_schwarz/pseuds/nagi_schwarz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the comment_fic prompt: "Stargate: Atlantis, John Sheppard/Rodney McKay, "I'm going to have to science the shit of this."</p><p>The Greatest Adventure in the History of Basic Cable continues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pinewood Derby

“Step back,” Rodney said, cracking his knuckles. “I am going to have to science the shit out of this.”  
  
Joe raised his eyebrows, alarmed, but John stepped up beside Rodney, lowered his voice. “What do you need? Math? Physics? Joe, get over here -”  
  
Joe slid closer, and Evan cleared his throat.   
  
“Rodney,” he said, “it’s just a pinewood derby.”  
  
“For adults,” Rodney said. “Hobby enthusiasts.”  
  
“Pretty sure Translator asked for this outing because his dad never went to pinewood derby with him as a kid.” Evan kept his voice low.  
  
But Rodney paid no attention. He directed John to weigh their supplies, Evan to measure the track, and both of them to run the figures past Joe, who was doing the calculating. Joe might have felt awkward for doing what he was doing, only most of the other men were doing the same thing, having brought compasses, tape measures, saws, drills, and sandpaper. Apparently competitive pinewood derby was very popular, and the timed version was even edgier. Rather than letting the competitors spend days or weeks or months painstakingly crafting their pinewood derby cars, everyone was given a standard kit, allowed to bring a certain set of tools, and given an hour to make the cars on site.  
  
Joe had wanted to be a boy scout for about two seconds as a kid and realized that there was no way his father would have let him join up, especially not given the cost (handbook, uniform, dues), so he’d tossed the dream aside like so many others.  
  
Evan and John hollered measurements at him, and Joe ran calculations, provided them to Rodney, and Rodney demanded Evan’s artistic skills for marking the block of wood out of which they’d build their car. Rodney sent John to measure the track again, sent Joe with him to run more calculations, and only after triple-checking their work - long after everyone else had started sawing - did Rodney begin to build the car.  
  
The finished product was...disappointing-looking to say the least. A wedge shape. Weights taped to the top. One of the axles strategically bent.  
  
“Those guys over there have spray paint,” Evan said, fretting. “Are you sure you don’t want me to paint it? I could give it a really nice finish - maybe even finagle some flames down the sides if I cut the box into a stencil -”  
  
“No,” Rodney said firmly. “This is the car we’re racing.”  
  
“It’s so...plain,” Evan protested.  
  
Joe knew Rodney’s math was good, that his physics were sound (and also that some of their modifications were probably illegal), but he did feel kind of embarrassed, about how plain their little ‘car’ looked.  
  
Until it went speeding down the track and smoked the competition.  
  
Afterwards, the other competitors crowded around to look at the car.   
  
“How the hell did you do that?” one of them asked.  
  
Rodney pointed to himself. “Nobel-winning physicist.” He pointed to John. “Almost Nobel-winning Physicist.” He pointed to Joe. “Fields Medal winner.” He pointed to Evan, paused. “Um...artist.”  
  
“I did a very fine job of sawing that block of wood, thank you very much,” Evan said. “And I cut the duck tape holding the weights onto the car into cute shapes.”  
  
Rodney looked down and just noticed the shapes of the tape - little winged horses. He looked a little horrified. Joe hid a smile behind his hand.  
  
“Jeez,” one of the other guys said. “We didn’t stand a chance, did we?”  
  
“Maybe a small one,” Rodney conceded. “Now come on. We need to go celebrate.” Out for drinks, he meant.  
  
But Joe was interested in the paint job Evan had been proposing for the car. Turned out, it looked pretty good on skin, too.


End file.
